


The Big Blue Lorry

by orphan_account



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Arthur Returns, Arthur drives a blue lorry, Big Blue Truck, Canon Compliant, Canon Elements, Farmer!Arthur, Friendship, Funny, Humor, M/M, Magic Returns, Modern Era, Old Merlin - Freeform, Podfic Welcome, mild crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-08
Updated: 2014-06-08
Packaged: 2018-02-03 22:55:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1759045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The big blue lorry in the finale had actually belonged to Arthur, who had reincarnated as a farmer. Merlin thought that the king's return could not have been more mundane, but he wasn't about to complain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Big Blue Lorry

**Author's Note:**

> The long-awaited sequel to "aeternus (eternal)" is here! I tried to write a canon compliant return based on the last scene in the finale, and this was the result. I grudgingly admit that this was slightly cracky, but if you enjoyed it anyway drop me a comment, yes? :)

_HONK._

A large blue lorry veered a corner and bumped its way down the concrete road, narrowly missing the old man walking on the edge of it. The bushes rustled from the wind created from the lorry’s lightning-quick passage, and the gigantic vehicle rumbled its way down the path in the direction of an open gate on the far end.

Merlin was tired. His bones felt weary and fragile, as if they could crack any moment if he wasn’t careful and took a wrong step. He knew he could easily fix the problem with a wave of his hand and a golden flash in his eyes, but he could not summon the energy to do so. His magic had dwindled to almost nothing over the years as society progressed, and the number of people who possessed magical abilities was slowly decreasing as well. The only thing that was still magical about Merlin was the fact that he was still alive after a thousand years of waiting.

He looked to his left, ignoring the crick in his neck as he did so, and gazed at the ruins on the other end of the lake, where he knew Arthur’s body lay resting. He sighed dejectedly, shoulders hunching, and walked on, movements shaky, but winced as the arthritis in both of his legs became more pronounced with every step he took. He stopped for a moment, catching his breath. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take.

He didn’t hear the rapid pitter-patter of footsteps of another person coming his way until said person called his name.

“Merlin!” a voice yelled. The voice was rough and had what his practiced ear identified as a West Country accent. (Merlin had had to don various disguises over the years, and had perfected the majority of accents this way.) Despite the lilting quality to it, however, the voice was unmistakable. Merlin’s eyes widened before he turned around.

For a few moments, Merlin was lost for words. The man running towards him was dressed in linen clothes that looked like they had been mended umpteen times over, with boots caked in mud and grubby gloves encasing his hands. He was a farmer, Merlin could gather that much.

A farmer, with the face of no other than Arthur Pendragon himself. Judging by the fact that the blue lorry that had crashed by him moments ago was now parked just outside of the gate, the lorry apparently belonged to him too.

Merlin had just enough time to gather himself before Arthur almost knocked him over with the force of a hug so tight he had all the air rush out of his lungs. Merlin coughed and wheezed like the old man he was, and Arthur released him, holding him by the shoulders so he could take a good look at him. “God, Merlin, you’ve changed _so much_ ,” he said, his eyes wandering from Merlin’s shaggy white beard to the tattered and worn state of his clothes.

Merlin coughed again before replying, though his voice was barely audible considering the state of shock he was in. “Look who’s talking.”

Arthur threw his head back and laughed, and in doing so Merlin noticed a fine trace of stubble on his chin. It was in that moment that the full impact of what had just occurred truly hit him properly, and Merlin staggered backwards when he realised. The wait was over. Arthur was back. He had somehow managed to reincarnate as a farmer, but he had returned nonetheless. “Heavens above,” he said in a gravelly voice that sounded remarkably like Gaius’. “This isn’t some trick, is it?”

“It’s not,” Arthur replied. “I’m back. It’s really me.” He smiled before he continued, clapping Merlin on the shoulder. “I should ask you the same thing. You’re barely recognizable as a wizened old man.”

“Right.” Something shifted inside Merlin as Arthur watched him, and in the next few moments, his beard disappeared, his hair darkened and his body reverted to his youthful self all on its own. Once the transformation was complete, Merlin opened his eyes again, and let out an involuntary gasp. The only thing that hadn’t changed about him was his eyes, which carried a weariness caused by a thousand years of lonely waiting, but twinkled just like they had when he was in Camelot.

“You’re a _farmer,_ ” was the first thing he said, staring with incredulity at the straw hat perched on Arthur’s similarly straw-coloured head. The ridiculousness of the situation mixed with the relief that his king had finally arisen stirred up conflicting emotions within him. He didn’t know whether he wanted to laugh or cry, or both. He had to admit that of all the times he had imagined Arthur coming back, this was way beyond his imaginative abilities. He had fashioned a much more glamorous return in his mind on most days, one where he would be standing by the lake and suddenly see a shape rise out of the water, holding a gleaming sword. Or even just having him pop up on the street one day, and just happen to bump into him. He had even envisioned Arthur falling right out of the sky in one of his fantasies, but to have Arthur return in such a… _mundane_ fashion was more than surprising to him.

“How perceptive of you, _Mer_ lin,” Arthur joked, enveloping him with another hug to ease his troubled thoughts. “I can scarcely believe it either. I said to Guinevere once that I dreamed of running away and living a life as a farmer, so I could do whatever I pleased. I told her I’d take you with me, of course, so you could do all the work.”

Merlin snorted. “Gwen must have been _so_ pleased to find the two of you wouldn’t be alone, even in your fantasy.”

“Yes, I suppose she must have,” Arthur said, wrinkling his nose. “But then again, I’ve never been too good with women. I’ve always preferred you.” He released Merlin’s shoulder and pointed behind him at the lorry parked on the side of the road. “That’s my lorry there. Bought her a couple weeks ago, but she’s very durable, which is why she still looks good as new.” Merlin nodded appreciatively, despite the fact that he knew close to nothing about cars, let alone humongous lorry trucks.

“I could take you to my farm, if you like,” said Arthur. “It isn’t much; just a few acres of land where I plant grapes and things. I also have a pig, five chickens, four cows and eight horses.”

 _“Eight?”_ Merlin said.

“Yes, well, I do a lot of riding, and I wouldn’t want to tire my horses out,” Arthur explained, furrowing his brow. Merlin laughed, but then Arthur took him by the hand and dragged him towards his lorry, so he went without complaint.

Merlin was smiling so hard, he didn’t see the lake he had been watching just minutes before suddenly shimmer with blue light, thrumming with magic and spreading outwards to the shores. He was so engrossed with his conversation with Arthur, he barely felt the burst of magic that exploded from the banks and envelop the land with power, an indication that magic had finally returned to the land, and that Albion’s reign had begun.


End file.
